Drunken Escapades
by AshleyMocha12
Summary: After Damon endures a disastrous ending with Elena and Bonnie is left to deal with a messy break-up with Jeremy, the two decide to have their very own pity party. Rated M for lemons!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So, this one-shot is going to take place right around where TVD left off. Katherine is still in Elena's body, and Damon is still in his old ways. I'm completely obsessed with Bamon and the idea of what could happen between them on the show, so if you are too, please enjoy this one-shot. ;)**

Bonnie could hear the loud music blaring through the Salvatore mansion as she tripped up the stairs. Elena had thrown a bash to celebrate the fact that her and Stefan were back together, which seemed absurd to both Caroline and Bonnie. Damon was nowhere in sight, which was probably a good sign. Ever since him and Enzo had rekindled their friendship, Damon had been up to no good. Being that he was emotionally unstable, attending a party that celebrated the relationship of his ex-girlfriend and his brother was sure to end in a disaster.

Bonnie regretted all of the booze that she had consumed that night; she couldn't even remember how many shots she had allowed Elena to give her. She regretted it even more after her conversation with Jeremy.

She blindly made her way through the hallway, bursting in and out of rooms that were occupied with horny couples. Finally, she reached an empty bedroom in the back of the house. She had never been in this room before, but then again, she hadn't been to the Salvatore mansion that many times to investigate the numerous rooms that the place held.

Thankfully, there was a bathroom in the room; she was seconds away from barfing all over the floor. She hurried into the bathroom and collapsed onto the ground, hawking up her pride into the toilet before flushing it all away. She let out soft moans, sinking down onto the cool tile.

Jeremy had broken up with her. No warning, no preparation; he just did it. He gave her some sorry excuse about the burden he was enduring when it came to her connection with the dead. It was too much for him to handle, and she was beginning to scare him. You'd think that a guy who died more times than you could ever imagine would completely understand her connection to the dead, which is why it hurt even more. There _had _to be another reason why he ended things, he just didn't want to hurt her even more than he already had. She hated him. She hated him because she loved him too much to try to let him go.

She didn't even realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks as she stood up to examine herself in the mirror. She looked an absolute mess; her mascara had run down her cheeks, her pupils were dilated, and her hair was all over the place; it had grown down to her shoulders by now. Staring at her appearance brought out the sobs that she was holding in. She popped the cap off of the mouthwash that sat on the counter and downed a good mouthful of it; she didn't even bother spitting it out.

She inched out of the bathroom, making her way toward the gigantic bed. She collapsed onto the mattress, burying her face into the white-sheeted pillow; she didn't care if she smeared her make-up all over it.

Her body began to vibrate as she bawled her eyes out. Her cries grew louder with each rhythmic beat of her heart; if she could undo the fact that she was even brought back, she would. It would spare her the heartache she was currently enduring.

Just when she thought matters couldn't get worse, the door to the room burst open. She didn't even look up to see who it was.

"Get out," she cried, her sobs continuing to stream relentlessly from her body.

"If I'm not mistaken, this is _my _room," the nonchalant voice muttered; it was a voice she'd recognize from a mile away—Damon.

She slowly turned on her back, horrified to picture what state her appearance was currently in.

"I didn't know," she whispered, sitting up in the bed. She grimaced at the black smudges all over the pillow. He did that wicked smile of his and slammed the door shut, trotting into the bathroom.

"It smells like puke in here," he called out, causing the pit of Bonnie's stomach to sink even more. Seconds later, he returned back into the room with a bottle of Bourbon and two shot glasses. Bonnie winced at the sight.

"You keep alcohol in your bathroom?" she spat. He wiggled his eyebrows and took a seat across from her on the bed.

"_You're _judging _me _right now?" he questioned, a light smirk on his face. She couldn't figure out why he was so smug about everything. She had broken into his room, puked in his bathroom and dirtied his sheets, yet he was willing to sit down and have a drink with her? "So, what are we drinking to?"

"If you couldn't tell, I'm already drunk," Bonnie slurred, turning away from the inviting smell of the Bourbon.

"Oh, I can tell," he said, his eyes roaming up and down her body. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel self-conscious at that moment. No one had ever seen Bonnie's drunken side, and she was silently thankful for that. "No one gets this shit-faced without having a valid reason; what's yours?"

Bonnie studied Damon's eyes for a minute before gulping loudly. "Jeremy broke up with me."

Damon widened his eyes for a split second before shaking his head and filling up one of the shot glasses.

"Bottoms up," he urged, handing it to her. Bonnie downed the shot, her face turning sour at how strong it was. She felt her body yearning for more.

"And what are you drinking to?" she wondered, even though she already knew.

"Elena and my baby brother are fucking each other again. Oh, and they're throwing a party to scream _fuck you _in my face," he stated, abandoning the shot glass and taking a long swig from the bottle. Bonnie stared at him dizzily, another tear inching its way down her cheek.

"It doesn't seem like it's bothering you," she admitted, tilting her head to the side. He looked up at her and frowned.

"Because I'm not crying with mascara rolling down my cheeks?" he spat. Bonnie winced at his words and ran a hand through her messy hair. Damon's face softened up as he poured another shot into her glass. "I'm just trying to say that I'm good at masking my pain."

"You mean you're good at channeling your pain through other things," she corrected, referencing the shenanigans he always ended up in when he was hurt. He shrugged his shoulders and took another swig.

"Whatever works, right?" he responded. She finished off her shot and cleared her throat.

"I know it's not fair to you," she told him, watching as his eyes slowly found hers. "I understand how it makes you feel. I know this probably won't mean much because… well, we've never really been the best of friends, but… I know you deserve to be happy. You don't deserve this."

"_I _don't deserve this? Bonnie, you're _dead. _And you want to know why you're dead? Because you brought that son of a bitch _Jeremy _back to life. And what does he do? He breaks up with you. If anything's not fair, it's that. I should go down there and rip his heart out for doing that to you," he growled; his eyes were sharp with anger. Bonnie gasped at Damon's words; who would have thought that he actually _cared_ about anything that happened to her.

She didn't know what came over her; maybe it was the combination of alcohol and self-pity, or maybe it was the way that he was staring intently into her eyes, but she suddenly possessed the urge to pull his face closer to hers.

"Damon," she whispered, brushing her lips against his. He smiled coyly, running his fingers down the side of her caramel-toned cheek. He took the liberty of pressing his lips against hers, trailing his fingers downward until they rested on her thigh. She moaned softly, tangling her fingers through his hair.

His lips tasted like sweet liquor, sending jolts of electricity through her veins. She had never experienced something so distinctly blurry; her hormones were all over the place. As she slowly registered what they were doing, she pulled away from him.

"Woah," she breathed, rising to her feet. Had she actually _kissed _Damon? He looked taken back, narrowing his eyes at her. "I'm… uh—I'm sorry."

As she moved to walk away, he gripped her wrist, halting her in place. She hissed, snatching her arm free.

"Why are you leaving?" he pressed. She scoffed, confused at the fact that he actually _wanted _her to stay.

"That was… wrong," she admitted, even though it felt dangerously right. It felt like she'd been craving that for a long time, without even realizing it. His eyes trekked her quivering body, causing her to part her lips.

"Sometimes you have to stop worrying about doing what's right," he began, reaching for her hand. She absentmindedly latched onto him as he pulled her into his lap. "And start doing what you _want._ I know you want this," he said, whispering the last part. Her chest was heaving erratically as his lips hovered over hers.

"What about Elena? What about Jeremy?" she whispered as she closed her eyes, leaning into him.

"What about them?" he declared, crushing his lips against hers. In that moment, she was done for; for some reason, she needed this more than anything.

He flipped them over so that she was lying on her back. His lips ghosted along the flesh of her neck before he bit down on it, causing her to gasp lightly. Damon moaned faintly at the taste of her delicious blood; he more so basked at the scent of her arousal—it was _strong_.

"Let's play a game," he murmured as he kissed along her collarbone. She bucked her hips in response, letting out a long breath. "The only name you can say is mine."

She moaned lightly at his words, opening her eyes wide enough to watch as he lowered himself to her thighs. He pushed them open as he slid her dress up, placing a long, soft kiss to her center. She bit down on her lip to suppress a moan, squeezing her eyes shut. She took the liberty of pulling her dress over her head, tossing it to the ground. Her bra was second to go.

"I want to hear you say it," he urged, ripping her laced panties from her body in one, swift motion.

"Damon," she breathed, scrunching her hands into fists.

"Say it louder," he insisted, trailing his tongue down her slit before wrapping his lips around her swollen clit.

"Damon!" she moaned, arching her back clean off of the bed—he still wasn't satisfied, though.

"Louder, Bennet," he demanded, plunging two fingers into her bundle of nerves, driving her over the edge.

"Shit! _Damon!_" she cried, rolling her hips into him. Her toes curled as he slowly added another finger, his lips never leaving her most sensitive spot. His tongue was running laps through her saccharine juices, exploring every part of her that he'd never imagined. He continued to venture her center tenderly as she chanted his name under her breath.

She hissed as she felt her walls clenching; it was coming too soon. All she wanted was to feel him buried deep inside of her.

"Fuck me, Damon!" she urged, throwing her head back. He looked up at her as he continued to tongue-fuck her recklessly.

"I'm sorry? I didn't quite hear that," he alleged; she knew that he was messing with her.

"Please," she begged, clawing at the sheets. Her walls began to tighten uncontrollably, causing her to mutter incoherent moans of indulgence. Before her body could burst with intense pleasure, he drew his head back and flipped her body over without warning. He bit down on her shoulder, savoring her tangible taste. She listened as he undid his pants, anticipating the moment that she'd feel him enter her. She was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't get the chance to watch as he did so.

As if on cue, she felt something large and thick slide into her core. She couldn't help the breathless whimper that escaped her lips as she adjusted to his size. She buried her face into the pillow as he pulled out, only to slam back into her. She squealed carelessly, her body begging for more.

"Damon," she let out, squeezing the pillow as he started to slide in and out of her at a constant pace. She could hear him breathing heavily as he gripped her waist passionately. He grunted lowly, speeding up his movements.

"Fuck, Bonnie," he moaned, grabbing onto her hair. Her melodic moans picked up as he drove into her; she never thought she'd be the one to enjoy rough sex. She could thank Damon for showing her something _else _that she didn't know about herself.

"Damon," she breathed as her eyes rolled back. She blindly felt around for his hand, lacing their fingers together. She used all of her energy to flip Damon onto his back, whining at their loss of contact.

He stared up at her through lidded eyes as she moved to straddle him. She caught a glimpse of his massive erectness, smirking internally. She positioned him at her core and slowly slid down onto him as they moaned in unison.

She began to rotate her hips over his, throwing her head back in exhilaration. She still couldn't believe that she was having drunken sex with Damon Salvatore, but she could honestly say that nothing had ever made her feel that good in a _long _time—not even Jeremy.

"Fuck," she drawled out, her hand still latched onto his.

"Remember the rules," he affirmed, desperately trying to hold on. She glared down at him, resting her other hand on his chest.

"Fuck isn't a name," she spat, moaning slightly afterward. She ground her hips down harder, determined to make him scream _her _name. His eyes fell closed as more sweat coated his forehead. He used his free hand to tickle her clit, causing her to lose all composure; she began shouting explicates throughout the room. She sped up her pace as she rocked onto him, screaming out as he bit down on her wrist.

"Damn, Bonnie," he uttered, bucking his hips into her; the room was filled with synonymous moans at the better contact.

She felt that familiar sensation at the pit of her stomach as she rode him to the best of her ability, listening as his low grunts turned into a tune of her name. That was _exactly _what she needed to hear as she came long and hard, digging her nails into his flesh.

She felt him cum inside of her seconds later with the same electrified facial expression that she held.

She rolled off of him, falling onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling, hoping that the conversation to come wouldn't be as awkward as she was picturing it would be.

"I'm not going to get pregnant from this, am I?" she asked dizzily, chancing a look at him. He chuckled lightly, rising from the bed.

"Doubt it. Vampires can't procreate," he stated. Bonnie couldn't help that her eyes wandered to his rear-end as he walked to the bathroom. He walked out seconds later with a fresh pair of pants, and a sinister look on his face.

"You might want to get dressed," he admitted. Bonnie narrowed her eyes as she sat up in the bed.

"Why?" she wondered.

"Because I hear Stefan coming toward my room," he smirked. Bonnie scrambled from under the covers, reaching for her dress. Damon eyed her hungrily as she quickly threw on her dress and attempted to fix her hair; there were so many things that he wanted to _redo _to her in that instant.

As if on cue, a knock sounded from the door. Damon raised his eyebrows at Bonnie, beckoning her to answer it. She grimaced before heading toward the door, inching it open. Stefan narrowed his eyes at the sight of her.

"Bonnie? What are you doing in here?" Stefan wondered, his eyes absentmindedly studying her appearance. Her face went flush as she thought up an excuse.

"We were just talking," she lied, brushing past him. Before he could respond, she was already making her way down the stairs. Stefan stepped into the bedroom, the scent bombarding his nostrils. He glared at Damon as he popped open a fresh bottle of wine.

"Wow, brother. Did you really think it was wise to have sex with Elena's best friend while she was right downstairs?" Stefan asked, crossing his arms. Damon scoffed as he downed half the bottle in an instant.

"Wise? Probably not. Fun? Absolutely," he retorted, wiggling his eyebrows. Stefan sighed heavily.

"You better make sure this night never leaves this room," Stefan warned, before stepping out of the room. After he was gone, Damon finally allowed his emotions to settle in.

Even though sleeping with Bonnie wasn't supposed to mean anything, he couldn't help the fact that it _did. _Despite them hating each other's guts, there was a soft spot that he held for the Bennett ex-witch/anchor, and there was no denying that.

**Author's Note: Dang, I haven't written in a **_**long **_**time; I really hope my writing isn't too rusty in this one-shot! Let me know in a review! I love you guys; xoxo.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: As you all know, this was originally a one-shot, but from the responses I've received, you guys would like for me to continue this! (: And as an author, I LOVE to keep my readers happy! Plus, I'm not 100 percent ready to be done with this story. So, as a treat to us both, I'm turning this into a two-shot! Please enjoy; I love you guys!**

There was _nothing _worse than the morning after.

The aching headache, the rush of memories, the constant urge to puke—no one warned her that it would be so horrendous.

All she could think about as she stood in her steamy, scalding shower was her _drunken escapades _with Damon the previous night. She tried to convince herself that it was appalling; she _wanted _to believe that if she were in her right mind, it wouldn't have happened. Truthfully, it probably would have. Every fiber of being craved Damon's touch, and it was becoming unbearable. Vivid images of his hands roaming her body played out in her head, causing her to turn off the water. If she stayed in there any longer, she would've done something stupid—like touch herself to the thought of her best friend's ex.

She stepped out of the shower and fetched a towel from the bathroom closet. She wiped her hand across the foggy mirror and sighed heavily. The only positive thing about her morning was the fact that she didn't look as torn up as she did the night before. She began drying her hair with the blow dryer, admiring its length. While she loved the bob, she preferred longer hair.

After she was done, she inched out of the bathroom and headed for her bedroom. She unwrapped the towel from around her body and dropped it to the ground, swinging the door open.

Her eyes met a pair of light blue orbs that could only belong to the infamous Damon Salvatore.

She shrieked and instantly covered her breasts with her trembling hands. "Damon? What the_ hell_ are you doing here?" She knew that the only way that he could have gotten in was the fact that no one _alive _lived there—that included her, since she was technically dead.

He didn't possess that sinister smirk that he always wore; instead, he looked fragile—broken, almost. He looked as if the worst thing that could possibly ever happen knocked on his doorstep. He slowly looked her up and down and sighed.

"We need to talk," was all he could let out. There was a chilled silence that fell over the room as those words seeped out.

…

"So let me get this straight," said a clothed Bonnie, her breathing coming out shaky and uneven. She was sitting across from Damon at her dining room table, each staring intently at the other. "Katherine has been in Elena's body this entire time?"

"Yeah. Since the day her _body _died_, _she voyaged her way into Elena. Nadia found a witch to make Katherine a traveler," Damon said; his voice was hoarse. Bonnie closed her eyes and thought back on their prior night together. After a long while of silence, she looked back up at him.

"Which means that Katherine was the one that broke up with you… not Elena," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Damon nodded slowly; she didn't even have to say anything more for him to realize what she was talking about. Elena was going to _hate them _when she found out that they slept together.

"She can't know," Damon said, watching Bonnie's facial expression. Bonnie grimaced and shook her head quickly.

"Damon, she _deserves _to know! I'm her best friend, and I betrayed her!" she shouted. Damon rose to his feet and slammed his hand on the table.

"No, you didn't! We were deceived into believing that Elena and I were a lost cause; she can't blame you for that," he argued.  
"But I _wanted _it, Damon!" she hollered back. He froze in his spot, stiffening up. Her breath hitched as she watched him, regretting her words. She stood to her feet and turned away from him, walking toward the kitchen sink. She heard footsteps making their way toward her as she leaned against the counter.

"Bonnie," he whispered. She felt his cool fingers come in contact with her arm, and she tried her hardest to keep her composure. Having him so close after the night that they previously spent together was dangerous; she wasn't supposed to be having lustful thoughts about him, especially considering the conversation that they just had.

"Damon, you should leave," she told him, turning around to face him. Her eyes locked with his, deepening the undeniable tension between them.

"Why?" he questioned. She bit down on her tongue as she watched his hypnotic eyes pour into hers. She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't process the right words to say. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Because I don't want to end up doing something that'll make this worse," she breathed, avoiding eye contact. He stepped closer to her, their bodies severely close to each other.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Bennett," he began, his hand still resting against her arm. She watched him cautiously as his eyes roamed her delicate figure. "Last night wasn't supposed to mean anything. I wanted something to distract me and I ran at the chance for that to happen… but then things started to change. We connected, Bonnie. We _actually _connected. I was glad that I was with _you." _

"Damon—

"I know, I know," he interrupted. She reached up and cupped the side of his face, caressing his chiseled jaw.

"Stop me before I get ahead of myself," she pleaded, inching her way closer to him. Her desperation for Damon's touch was clouding the judgment that she anxiously needed at that moment. Truthfully, he didn't _want _to stop her. Whatever she had in mind, he was sure that he wanted it just as much as did—possibly more. That was the part that scared him.

She brushed her lips against his, savoring the sensation of feeling them again. His hand traveled its way to her back as he vigorously pulled her to his chest. She pulled back to gaze at him before taking his lips in hers.

He stroked the exposed skin of her waist as he deepened the kiss, moving his lips feverishly over hers. It was intoxicating as their tongues danced around each other's, stimulating every part of their heated bodies.

His lips moved to her neck as he hoisted her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he planted lascivious kisses to her sensitive flesh. She began to grind her hips against his, hoping to ease the increased throbbing that she felt in her core—only _he _could get her so aroused in such little time. She moaned quietly as she felt his erection growing against her.

Though she couldn't imagine anything better than having Damon Salvatore's hands roaming her body sacredly, she knew that they had to stop. If she felt guilty about telling Elena before, there were no words for how she was feeling now.

She kissed him painfully slow before drawing back, her chest heaving excessively. He leaned in once more, pressing his lips against hers. She pushed him off of her, watching as his face flickered misperception.

"How are you so okay with this?" she whispered with difficulty. Truthfully, he didn't know the answer to that question. The only thing that he knew for sure was that he wanted to hear Bonnie screaming his name as he marked his territory inside of her.

"You want this just as much as I do," he said defensively.

"You _love _Elena!" she shot back. Once again, he was frozen. Bonnie knew exactly what to say to leave Damon speechless, and she was just about the only person who had the capability to do that. She knew that he wasn't going to respond, so she kept going. "You love her, and she loves you. So… you have no business here. Just leave, please."

"Fine," he spat, backing away from her. He gave her one last look of longing before flying out the back door.

Bonnie's bottom lip began to quiver as she slumped down against the counter.

"How unfortunate," a voice spoke from a distance. She looked up to see Enzo resting against the doorframe of her kitchen. She quickly wiped away the tears that had managed to fall, standing upright to face him.

"Enzo… are you _dead?" _she whispered.

"Of course," he chirped, making his way into the dimly lit kitchen. "I'm a vampire." She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, desperately searching for the patience to deal with the guy who almost killed Jeremy.

"I'm asking if you're here to pass on to the other side," she verified.

"Ahhh. No, not just yet, but thanks for asking," he responded sarcastically. He made his way over to her fridge and began to dig around for something edible.

Her eyes followed him confusedly; she had _no _idea why she was getting so many unexpected visits that morning.

"May I ask why the hell you're here, then?" she spat. He turned to face her and smiled menacingly.

"I've been keeping a lookout on Damon ever since his unlucky encounter with the lust for vampire blood. As a friend, of course," he said with an unconvincing wink. She glared him up and down, tilting her head to the side.

"That still doesn't answer my question. Why are you _here_, in my _house_?" she asked again. He grabbed a thing of yogurt from the fridge and slammed it shut.

"Got a spoon?" he asked, avoiding her question.

"Enzo!" she shouted.

"Alright, alright! Calm the temper, sweet heart," he cooed with his sweetly flowing accent. "I couldn't help but overhear the predicament that you're in."

"With Elena—I mean, Katherine?" she questioned. Enzo's eyes traveled around the kitchen in search of a spoon. Bonnie sighed heavily and swiped a spoon out of the drawer, throwing it toward him. He caught it swiftly and smiled triumphantly, but she wasn't impressed.

"To answer your question, no. Your predicament with Damon," he responded, opening the yogurt. Bonnie's face fell at the realization that he was there the entire time, which meant that he saw them in their five minutes of stupidity. It was bad enough that Stefan knew; now Enzo—of all people—was another one to add to the list.

"That's none of your business," she told him, walking toward the door.

"Oh, but it is. You see…Damon likes you. He doesn't like very many people, but he _does_ like you. The only reason why that makes this relevant is the fact that you're _not _a vampire, and he doesn't lust uncontrollably for your blood," he said between scoops. Bonnie rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I have no idea where you're going with this," she droned.

"I need you to keep him company until we find an antidote. If you don't, he'll end up hurting someone —like me, of course," he said, smiling at the end. "In order for that to happen, you guys _sort of _need to be on good terms."

"Oh, no. This is _not _happening right now. You are _not _about to use me for your own benefit," she declared, opening the door for him to exit. He snickered to himself as he tossed the empty yogurt in the sink.

"To _my _benefit? I didn't hear you complaining when he was devouring your lips a few minutes ago," he shot back, causing her to clamp her mouth shut. "Besides, you already owe a great deal to Elena for what you've done behind her back. It would be a shame if Damon did something to her because you couldn't get over yourself long enough for us to find a cure."

"So I'm just supposed to hold him hostage? You know I can't do that," she said back. Enzo smirked and inched closer to Bonnie.

"Oh, but you can," he argued, giving her a slow, subliminal wink. She clenched her jaw and stared directly into his sinister eyes.

"How long do you think it'll take you to find this cure, Enzo?" she wondered.

"Stefan has a lead, so hopefully no more than a few days. Think you can keep him distracted for that long?" he asked, laughing once more. She took a much-needed breath and nodded slowly.

"You better look fast," she threatened. He gave her one last smirk before leaving out the door. Bonnie double locked it, even though she knew that he'd be able to get back in if he really wanted to.

She considered her options; if Damon stayed with her, she didn't _have _to sleep with him. The only thing that could outweigh that possibility was the fact that she _wanted _to.

"Mind, I need you to be stronger than my hormones right now, okay?" she whispered to herself. She counted to 100 before she took out her phone and scrolled to his name. She pressed call and sat the phone on the counter, allowing it to go on speaker. It rang twice before he picked up.

"I'm sorry, Damon isn't available to play the whole 'we need to tell Elena' game, so if that's why you called, please leave your message after the beep," he spat; she could feel the hatred dripping from his words.

"Well hello to you, too," she sighed. Silence. "Can you come over?"

"What?" he asked; he was completely shocked to hear those words come out of her mouth. "Didn't you just kick me out twenty minutes ago?"

"Yeah, but I changed my mind," she lied, chewing on her lip. "And… bring some clothes."

"Are we having a slumber party?" he joked. "Are you going to paint my nails as we talk about cute boys?"

"I'll explain it to you when you get here, okay? Just do it," she said before hanging up. She hoped that she'd be able to control herself when she got around him.

…

_**two days later**_

Bonnie could honestly say that she deserved an award for her strong use of willpower. Damon's stay was short from tempting as he used every trick in the book to get Bonnie to let her guard down.

He tried the bathroom mannerism, cracking the door wide enough for her to see him in the nude. He walked around shirtless and he did that thing with his eyes where—well, he _looked_ at her. That's all it took, really.

Even though Bonnie made a bed for him on the floor, he always ended up right beside her. She couldn't complain because his masculine arms were able to put her to sleep instantly. She was just afraid that she wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer.

She was currently lying beside him as Twilight played quietly on the television.

"Why do the Vampires sparkle with sun exposure in these movies?" he chuckled, resting his head in his large hand. She looked up at him and laughed lightly. "I mean, I guess it's better than burning like a fireplace…. _nah_, not even."

"I feel the same way about the witches in Hocus Pocus. Why are they so—

"Hideous?" he interrupted. She nodded slowly.

"Pretty much," she responded. "Witches don't look like that."

"That's a good question. I never remembered you looking that way when you were a witch," he told her. She tilted her head up and slanted her eyes.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she wondered.

"Well… yeah. You're beautiful; nothing like those disgusting, cackling old bags. That's all I meant," he reassured. She smiled softly, turning back to the movie. He quickly grabbed the remote and switched the TV off, leaving the room completely darkened.

"Why'd you do that?" she wondered. She could feel him breathing heavily beside her, and she began to grow worried.

"Blood," he mumbled; Bonnie didn't even notice that there was blood on the screen. She leaned over and switched on the lamp. His eyes were dark, and his hands were shaking. Ever since he started staying with her, Enzo would bring over small portions of his and Stefan's blood to keep him sane, but something was happening. Damon was having withdrawals. She tried to think up a way to distract him.

"Want to play 20 questions?" she asked quickly, cursing herself mentally. He slowly turned to face her as his eyes began to turn back to normal.

"What?" he asked.  
"20 questions. You know… where we each ask each other 10 questions to find out more about the other," she responded.

"I know how the game works. Why do you want to play?" he wondered. She could tell that he was still focused on his painful craving.

"I'm feeling nostalgic. I used to play this game all of the time. What's the harm in it? I'll go first," she urged. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Fine," he said. A plethora of questions swarmed her mind as she stared at him; she could tell that he was suffering.

"What is the first thing that you notice about a person?" she questioned. He opened his eyes and narrowed them in her direction.

"Uhh… their face?" he responded. She sighed heavily and glared at him.

"Really, Damon? Be serious, please?" she asked. He shrugged and thought for a moment.

"I guess I notice their demeanor. It's how I figure out their strengths, their weaknesses… it says it all," he said, staring off into a distance. Her mouth gaped open at his response. She would have thought that he'd say their hair. His eyes found hers, and she could have sworn that he smiled briefly. "I guess it's my turn."

"Oh, um, yeah. It is," she said as she slowly registered that he had spoken; she was completely caught off guard by his luscious _eyes_. They were definitely _her_ weakness.

"What is your least favorite thing about yourself?" he wondered. She widened her eyes a bit and hit his shoulder.

"Are you trying to get me self conscious?" she asked.

"I'm asking the questions here," he smirked. She could sense that he was still thinking about blood, but he wasn't as tense as he was before. Progress was being made.

"My conscience. Even though it stops me from doing things that I might regret… it stops me from living," she whispered, looking up at him. He was giving her a look that she couldn't quite read, but she could tell that he cared about what she had to say.

"Your turn," he spoke softly.

"When was the last time you cried?" she asked. He took a few minutes to respond as he took slow breaths.

"Last night," he admitted. Bonnie widened her eyes, surprised at the fact that he was crying and she didn't even notice.

"Really? Why?" she asked. He shook his head and laughed.

"It's my turn to ask a question, remember?" he taunted. She sighed heavily and nodded.

"That's true. Go ahead," she urged.

"What is your greatest fear?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders; it was clear that he wasn't used to playing this game.

"I _died. _So… I guess I could say that death is my greatest fear. I'm kind of forced to face my fear every single day when someone has to pass through me to get to the other side," she responded.

"Are you getting used to it now that it happens all of the time?" he shot back, genuinely concerned about her duties of being the anchor.

"It's actually my turn to ask you a question," she winked, mimicking his earlier response to her. He grinned teasingly and nodded. "Now… why were you crying?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I was just thinking about Elena, this stupid Vampire craving… _you_," he finally said. Once again, her mouth fell open. He was thinking about _her, _and _crying_? She could understand when it came to Elena, but her? She didn't know what to say without sounding stupid, so she stayed quiet.

"Now answer my question," he said once he realized that she wasn't going to respond. She shook her head and frowned.

"It doesn't get easier. If anything, it gets harder. The fact that I know what's coming just makes it worse," she spoke. He reached over and rested his hand over hers, gazing at her apologetically. She could feel that familiar urge to get lost in him, but she was depending on that last ounce of willpower to get her through the night.

"That must be hard," he told her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She anxiously tried to think of something else to ask him.

"When do you feel the most loved?" she asked. He didn't exactly know how to answer that. He wasn't sure if he actually knew the answer to it.

"I guess the obvious answer would be when I'm around Elena," he said, causing her hand to twitch at the mention of her name—she didn't exactly mean for that to happen, but he noticed. "I guess I just feel the most loved when people actually listen to what I have to say… when they actually care."

"I can agree with that," she whispered, smiling lightly. "Your turn."

Damon stared at her for a long time, his lips parted slightly. There was a question that he had been holding in since the start of the game, but he didn't exactly know how he wanted to go about it. "Would you have expressed your feelings for me if I wouldn't have taken the first step?"

She stiffened up instantly; he definitely caught her off guard. "Excuse me?"

"When you tried to stop us that night… if I wouldn't have told you to allow yourself to do what _you _wanted, would you have done it?" he asked again. Things had just gotten terribly real. Her breath hitched as she considered his words.

"Um…" she began, her hand still clutched to his. "No, probably not. But… I'm glad that I did, if that makes it better." He nodded slowly, his eyes searching hers for a more innate answer.

"Is there something important that you want to tell me?" she breathed, her eyes wide and full of curiosity. He looked her up and down repeatedly, his chest pounding rapidly. He could feel her heart racing as he leaned toward her. Her eyes fell closed as he briefly pressed his lips to hers, pulling away quickly.

"There's something between us, Bennett. You know it, and I know it," he responded. Well, he _did _answer her question. "Am I wrong?"

She swallowed thickly and shook her head; he _wasn't_. As bad as it was, she couldn't lie to herself. She _wanted _Damon Salvatore. He smiled mildly and trailed his other hand down her arm. "It's your turn."

"Are you going to kiss me again?" she asked with anticipation. He smirked and grabbed hold of her neck, bringing her lips to his. She had _finally _allowed herself to let go of that willpower that she was desperately clinging to, and it felt _good. _Kissing Damon felt _good. _

He pushed her onto her back and climbed on top of her, resting his hands on either side of her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to grind against her; it brought her back to their shenanigans in the kitchen. Just as she was about to deepen their kiss, her phone buzzed from the nightstand.

Their bodies froze as they turned toward it. Bonnie could faintly see that it was a text from Enzo, and she had a feeling that she knew what it was going to say. She reached over and grabbed her phone, opening the text.

_We found the antidote. Be over in 5 min._

She looked up at Damon, querulous at the fact that they weren't going to be able to finish their guilty act of pleasure.

"Looks like you're moving out tonight. Enzo found the antidote; he'll be over in five minutes," she said; she tried her hardest to sound delighted. She was happy that he wouldn't have to suffer anymore, but that only meant that he'd be able to go running back to Elena. She didn't know if she was ready for that just yet. She could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking the same thing as her.

"Tell Enzo to text you back in about an hour," he declared, placing a chaste kiss to her ruby lips. She gasped lightly, narrowing her eyes.

"What about the antidote?" she whispered.

"What about it?" he smirked; he devoured her lips slowly, blocking out the world around them.

And that was all it took to get the escapades going again.

Even if it was the last time they'd get the opportunity to be with each other, they were going to take advantage of the chance. Regardless of tomorrow's consequences, tonight, it would be worth it.

**Author's Note: Welp, that's it, everyone! I hope it was to your liking; let me know in a review! I love you guys! Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo. **


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